Curse of the Werebottom

Chapter 25

Meanwhistle practically kicked the door to his study off its hinges as he burst through its entrance. He had a new found strength and felt more and more like the young man he used to be as he reached his huge desk and slammed his palms down upon it. With a final gesture of power and control he swept all the papers from it and sent the many bills, demands for money and final invoices swooping to the floor. His eyes were wide with the look of a crazed madman and his grey hair moved across his head erratically as if it had developed a life of its own that was as equally drenched in madness. Meanwhistle was delirious with happiness whilst he was trembling with fear.

"It is time." He said to himself. He raised his hands above his head and turned to face the portraits of his ancestors who all stared down at him from their positions of judgement, high up over and across the study walls. "My final act of destruction will make the world finally understand the strength and appeal of the mighty Meanwhistle name and Meanwhistle Manor."

He swept over to the large window that not only overlooked the grounds, but also offered a magnificent view over the town on such a clear evening as this one. He pushed against the old wooden window frames, and they opened slowly with resistant screeches and creaks to let in the cool evening air. Meanwhistle drew in lungful's of fresh, dry air and exhaled slowly.

The exhalation gradually became a cackle, and then it grew into roars of laughter as Meanwhistle realised that even though his son had fled the country to avoid supporting him and the Manor, that tonight his labour would ensure the financial future of the whole family.

All the boy had to dowas complete his terrible deeds without being caught, he thought. As Meanwhistlewas so fixated on causing mayhem and destruction, he realised that he no longereven cared if the boy was seen.